by Nick Stevens
Mason checked the list of names on the VIP list from a nearby tablet. The short Tuesday list didn’t take long to scan. He saw one male name after another until one jumped out. Bethany Kaine. He copied the name onto a yellow stickie note and shoved it into his pocket.
Punching the button on the security panel, Mason restored the surveillance screens to their usual scanning state. His eye caught two figures barging through the front door. They didn’t meet the dress code or the demographic. On the screen, Mason watched TJ shout at their backs before turning away, hand pressed to his mic. Over the radio, Mason heard TJ’s voice report the police entering, but he didn’t know why.
Two uniformed police followed a few steps behind the first two men. Mason recognized Detectives Cooper and Ross from yesterday’s interrogation as they moved through the crowd, grabbing any server they found.
Mason watched the detectives ask every server a short question and get shaking heads in response. As the detectives turned away, searching for their next target, each woman stared into the nearest security camera.
Mason knew he had to run.
Chapter 15
Walking into the cool night, Bethany checked for Max near the entrance, then up and down the wide sidewalk. She didn’t see him anywhere. Sighing, Bethany called it a night, even a brief one, and head home.
She’d taken a ride share to the club from her overpriced townhouse. Seeing the crush of people staring into phones and waiting for rides outside the club, she knew surge pricing would be steep. Even with her feet crammed into painful black high heels, Bethany thought a walk could help clear her head a bit.
Rounding the nearest corner, the motion of two people in a dark corner startled her. “Sorry,” one said, then went back to burying his face into his partner’s. The woman, propped against a building with most of her clothes removed, blew Bethany a kiss as she passed.
Stalking down the street, Bethany thought back to Max’s threats. She owed him tens of thousands of dollars. Only their shared, twisted past kept him at bay. She didn’t know how much credit that bought her, and when it might run out.
The Stewart deal needed to close. Soon.
Turning up another street, she leaned against a massive concrete planter. Pulling off a shoe, she rubbed one aching foot, then the other. She took out her phone and scrolled through ride share apps, searching for the best deal back to Georgetown. Spending lavish sums on fashion she justified as investments. She viewed paying triple price for a ride home as wasteful.
The click of a shoe striking concrete registered a moment before a fist crashed into her stomach. Doubling over and crashing to the ground, she stared into Max’s enraged face as she gasped for air.
“Did you think I forgot about you? Eh?”
The point of a polished dress shoe drove into her side. She yelped as pain laced up her side.
“All the things I do for you! This is how you repay me? First, you don’t pay.”
Bethany watched his leg draw back for another kick. She wrapped her arms around her stomach as the blow landed, knocking the wind out of her again.
Max stepped back. His head swiveled, looking for any witnesses on the nearby streets.
“Then, you get me kicked out of the club.”
He stomped on her prone form, leaving a black streak on her white skirt. Her hand darted to protect her hip and leg.
Max slumped against the same lump of concrete Bethany sat on moments before. Reaching into his suit coat, he lit a cigarette, his rage fading.
“You know, Bethany, you were always special to me. Not like other girls. Did you know that?” The smoke drifted from his nostrils.
Bethany struggled for breath from the filthy sidewalk, avoiding eye contact with Max. The acrid scent of tobacco filled her nose as he exhaled. She heard the tobacco burn as he took another deep inhale. No one smoked like Max, she thought.
“What’s wrong? Usually, I can’t get you to shut up. Now? Nothing.” He shoved her onto her back with his foot. He reached for his belt buckle. “Maybe I can get you to make some noise.”
Bethany groaned. “Not. Not that. Not that tiny cock again. Anything but that.” Every breath sent ripples of agony through her.
Throwing his head back, Max roared. “You’ve got some balls on you, Beth!” He crouched next to her. Grabbing a handful of blonde hair, he pulled her face next to his.
“Next week. My money. Or it ends for you and your meth-head mother.”
Max tossed her head to the concrete like he would a cigarette butt. Straightening his suit jacket, he lit another cigarette and walked off.
“Don’t forget.”
Spinning the dial on the discount combination lock, Mason yanked an olive backpack out of the spare locker he kept in the security office. The locker shut with a bang.
Mason turned to Rob, now docile after gorging on thousands of calories. “When the police show up, tell them you haven’t seen me. Then backup the security footage to the spare server and wipe the live feeds. Got it?”
A confused Rob stared at him. “What?”
Mason took a deep breath. “Cops. Looking for me. You haven’t seen me. Backup the live security feeds, then erase the footage from the live system. Got it?”
Rob’s eyebrows lowered. He tossed a wad of napkins into a nearby trashcan. “No problem, boss. Haven’t seen you since your last shift.”
Mason clutched the backpack and headed down the staff stairway. As he descended the stairs, he wondered why a former bank had so many exits.
Bethany laid on the cool ground for several minutes after Max left. She heard the bastard whistling as he strolled away.
Every breath sent a stabbing pain up her right side. Dizzy from the blow to her head, she took deep breaths and collected herself. She ran through a slow inventory of what hurt and what didn’t. An involuntary moan escaped her as she pressed a hand against her abdomen. A sudden cough launched a burst of pain-induced vertigo. She wanted to wretch.
Focusing on keeping her breaths slow and shallow, she propped herself up on one elbow. Pulling wobbling legs underneath her, she kicked off her high heels. Bethany saw the scuffs running along the shoes from rubbing against the sidewalk. Twelve hundred-dollar Alexander Wangs, she thought, ruined by that bastard.
Bethany realized she was more enraged by the shoes than by Max’s ambush.
Steadying herself against the hideous concrete block, she winced as she pulled her feet beneath her. After several minutes, she stood up. The sound of rushing blood pulsed through her ears. A part of her registered her trembling hands, then pushed it away.
Glancing around her, she spotted the shiny case of her phone a few feet away. Bending over to pick it up brought on a wave of nausea. Squatting, she snatched it from the ground.
She debated getting a car home. Placing a gentle hand against her ribs, she didn’t think she could get into a car, let alone somehow crawl back out of one.
Bethany knew she’d have to walk the nearly three miles to her place.
Resigning herself to the throbbing pain, she limped towards Georgetown.
Chapter 16
The hard mattress squeaked as a restless Chloe propped herself on her elbows. The only sound came from a snoring Diana, her torso rising and falling. Tossing aside the blanket and sheet, Chloe rolled her legs out of bed and found the simple sandals on the floor next to her.
Stepping to the door, she pressed the latch holding the door closed. Chloe froze as the loud thunk of the thumb latch released, freeing the door. Diana’s delicate snoring paused for a moment, then resumed its steady rhythm. Chloe slid open the door, backing out and monitoring Diana as she eased the door closed.
Outside, simple gas lanterns hung from the surrounding buildings, casting circles of faint yellow light on the ground. Turning around, she didn’t see or hear anyone else nearby.
Inhaling the crisp night air, Chloe wrapped her arms around herself against the chill, her thin nightshirt doing little to insulate her. Looking up throu
gh the trees, Chloe stared at constellations of stars in the inky black sky. She never saw stars in Washington. The brief surge of wonder faded as she remembered her imprisonment.
This was the first time she’d been alone in the days since Father Paul released her. Chloe took advantage of the sudden freedom the only way she could - she sat at the base of a tree, legs curled underneath her, and cried. Deep sobs poured out of her as hot tears streamed down her cheeks.
The preceding days came back to her in fragments of clarity surrounded by haze. Images of Paul’s face above her as she laid helplessly in bed pushed into her mind. She tried shoving him away again and again as he invaded her, but she couldn’t make her arms move. She hated herself for being so weak.
Through her sobbing, Chloe heard the distinctive sound of a throat clearing. Startled, she bolted to her feet as a man stepped from behind a nearby tree. Through her tears, she couldn’t make out the man in the dim light. Chloe wiped her eyes as he stepped further out of the shadows, her mouth gaping open at the menacing monster of a man in front of her.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” the man said. She saw a black stick glistening in his hand as light reflected its savage angles.
“I’m sorry! Please don’t tell anyone. I… I just wanted some time alone.” Chloe backed into the tree, hoping she’d disappear into it and out of this endless nightmare.
The man stepped closer. “You’re new here, right? I haven’t seen you around.”
“Yes, I think I’m new here. It’s all been a blur. I’m Chloe. Chloe Stewart.” The name was foreign in her mouth. She hadn’t said it in so long.
“I’m Aaron. I work for Paul.” He corrected himself. “I mean, Father Paul.”
“What do you do for him?”
“Oh, a little of this and a little of that. I keep the trains running on time.”
Chloe recalled Diana telling her about a scary giant of a man at the compound. Diana, Chloe realized, had a gift for understatement. Aaron terrified her.
Aaron leaned in, as if he and Chloe were co-conspirators. “You should get back inside. The senior sisters don’t like the flock out after curfew. But since you’re out here, you can do me a favor.”
Fear paralyzed Chloe. She was powerless against this monster standing in front of her. Her face grew hot as tears ran down her cheeks.
“Well? Don’t you want to help me?” He poked at her with a blunt finger. “You don’t want the cage, do you?”
Chloe stared back at Aaron through a tunnel as terror constricted her vision. Her mouth opened and hung silent, unable to find words. Forcing a response, she shook her head.
“Good. Come with me, Chloe Stewart.”
The giant walked off, away from the cabin she’d escaped. Frozen in place, she watched him walk off.
Aaron stopped and laughed at the frightened girl. “Come on. Your sisters need help.” He waved her forward and her feet moved at his command.
Every step he took equaled three of hers, forcing her to run to keep up. A deep ditch blocked their way after a few minutes of brisk walking. Aaron turned left and followed the ditch until he found a bridge and continued on.
“Where are we going?” Chloe yelled to his back.
“It’s a field trip. Don’t worry. You will love it. All the girls do.”
Minutes later, a white building appeared through a large cove of trees. Unlike the others she’d seen, this building had white walls made of cinderblock. Stark white light poured through the high windows. Perimeter lights lit the ground around the building.
Chloe followed Aaron as he walked around the building. He paused at a door. Fumbling for keys, he unlocked it.
Stepping into the door, Aaron handed Chloe a face mask and plastic gloves before masking up and gloving himself. She suited up, unsure why.
Aaron trudged down the short hallway. Chloe followed. Bright fluorescent lights hung above, giving the space a clinical feel. “A big rush order came in and I need another set of hands to help load. You’ll be sealing bags for a few hours, just to help with the last push. I was coming to get Diana since she’s done this before, but I ran into you instead.”
“Sealing what bags?” The question came out as she stepped into a room filled with metal tables. A woman staffed each table, wearing the same protective equipment as Chloe. She thought she recognized several of the women from her baptism.
Even through the mask, Chloe smelled a bitterness that hung in the air.
Some women scooped various powders from bins into bowls placed on the scales while others dumped the contents of bowls into clear bags. From there, the bags were sealed and wrapped again. The sealed bags ended up in a pile on one table, where a woman waved what looked like a hair dryer over them.
“Go help her.” Aaron pointed to the woman with the hair dryer.
“Help her with what? I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Aaron picked up a clipboard. His meaty finger traced down a column of numbers.
“It’s a heat gun. All you have to do is wave it, gently, over the plastic until it gets taught. Don’t melt the plastic. Take your time when you start.” He shooed her away with his free hand. “Go.”
With her instructions, Chloe stepped to the table. Smiling behind her mask, she said, “Hi, I’m Chloe.”
The woman’s eyes went wide behind her mask.
“No talking.” Aaron’s voiced echoed in the confined space. “Just work.”
The woman waved the gun back and forth across the clear plastic. As the plastic shrank, the powder inside compressed into a hard brick. Seeing a spare heat gun, Chloe took a package and did what her table partner did, only slower.
Stacking the finished package at the end of the table, she glanced at the mountain of work left to do.
Reaching the door leading to the street, Mason looped one arm through his backpack, shouldering it. Easing the door open, he looked for any police stationed outside. Seeing none, he ducked into the familiar alley. He crossed into the parking structure sharing the alley, avoiding the open areas as much as possible. Reaching G Street, he turned right, heading towards Chinatown.
He reached for his phone when a familiar buzz erupted from his jacket pocket. Relief swept over him at the sight of Sal’s number displayed on the screen.
“Sal! Everything okay?”
“Mason, were you worried about me?” Her laugh sounded distant as she talked over her car’s hands-free. “Where are you?”
Mason stopped, ducking into a doorway. The sour stench of urine overwhelmed him, pushing him back into the street.
“Sal, what’s going on? You’ve been unreachable for hours.”
“Sorry about that. Long story. Judge Stewart recognized the girl right away. Said she was an intern for him two years ago. Lots of good things to say about her, but he said she was cold. Never hung out with other interns or engaged in small talk.”
“Was the name Bethany Kaine?” Triumph laced his voice.
“How the hell did you know that?”
“In case you didn’t know, I’m a former deputy marshal. I’m a man of means.”
“Fill me in later. The judge didn’t have an address for her, but I called in a favor. Should have something by the morning.”
Mason’s shoulders sagged as his hopes fell. “Tomorrow morning may be too late. Now that we’ve got a break, we need to move. Anything else we can do?”
The conversation fell away as Mason looked across the street. He watched a woman inch her way down the sidewalk. Carrying shoes in one hand, her bare feet shuffled on the sidewalk. A car racing down the street honked at her, illuminating her enough for Mason to catch a flash of straw-colored hair and the flash of sequins on a short skirt.
“Hey, I think I found her,” Mason relayed to Sal, his excitement coming through his voice.
“Who? Bethany Kaine?” She sounded incredulous.
“Yep. She was at Gridlock tonight. Somebody harassed her, and I tossed him out.” He heard Sal grunt. “She looks injur
ed, like somebody roughed her up. I’m going to follow her and see where she leads.”
Static filled his ear.
“Mason, why aren’t you at the club right now?”
“Because the police are after me. I’m guessing they think I killed Laurel Fitzgerald. Maybe a few other people.”
Salome turned the car off, leaving the battery on to keep the radio going. The pair sat in Sal’s car, half a block from the townhouse Mason watched Bethany walk into hours ago. Mason noticed Sal had dressed down, changing out of her nightclub wear into a pair of dark yoga pants, sneakers and black v-neck t-shirt.
“Where did you get these clothes?”
“I told you I run marathons, so I’m always training. The trunk of my car is like a closet of wrinkled clothes. Changed at a diner on the way here.”
Sal sipped her coffee as Mason devoured an egg and cheese sandwich from Emissary, one of the few late night coffee shops in the District. “Tell me again what happened with the detectives. When you called on Tuesday, you told me another girl was missing and police dragged you in, but you didn’t give me the details.”
Mason recounted getting picked up by the police at his apartment and the direct line of questioning in the interrogation room. Yesterday, when he’d told Borisov, Sal, and Harrison Stewart about the police questioning him about Laurel Fitzgerald, he’d omitted the four murdered young men. This time, he gave Sal every gory detail.
“And who questioned you?”
“Cooper and Ross. Do you know them?”
Down the street, an impatient dog hunted for a spot to relieve herself at the coaxing of her owner. Sal laughed at the person holding the leash, dressed in a raincoat, boxer shorts and loafers. “The things people do for dogs,” she whispered to no one, other than an equally impatient Mason. Coming back to the conversation, Sal said, “I know them from reputation. Never worked with them, though. Cooper’s okay; good cop. Ross? Whole other story. There was a rumor he got in deep in some gambling debt. Must’ve been four years ago.”
